Chương 95: Chapter 88: The Grimm Reaper

The rhythmic, heavy chugging of the Argus Limited finally began to slow. Outside the frosted windows, the endless, blinding white of the northern tundra gradually gave way to the sprawling, vibrant architecture of civilization. Argus was a breathtaking sight. Built into the steep, snowy cliffs overlooking the freezing northern ocean, the city was a bustling marvel of Mistralian culture and Atlesian engineering.

Massive, steel-reinforced walls protected the city's perimeter, while high above the civilian districts, perched on the highest cliffside like a metallic bird of prey, sat the imposing Atlesian military base. Inside the train cabin, however, the majestic view was heavily contrasted by the sheer, mundane panic radiating from the back row. Saitama was aggressively scrubbing the lapel of his pristine white trench coat with a damp paper napkin.

He was hunched over, his brow furrowed in a deep, comical scowl of absolute distress.

"It's setting in," Saitama muttered rapidly, scrubbing harder.

"The grease is setting into the fibers. If I don't get this chemically treated in the next hour, it's going to leave a permanent shadow. Do you know how much this cost? Well, I don't, because I didn't buy it, but it looks expensive!" Sitting beside him, Neopolitan simply rolled her eyes, a playful, entirely unbothered smirk on her lips. She held a large, ornate box of Mistralian sweet-buns, a luxury item she had effortlessly stolen from the first-class dining car during the chaos of the Grimm attack.

She plucked a fluffy, sugar-glazed bun from the box, took a delicate bite, and offered the remaining half to Saitama. Saitama paused his frantic scrubbing, his stomach giving a loud, echoing growl. He glared at the sweet-bun, then at the grease stain, before snatching the pastry and chewing it aggressively.

"I'm still finding a laundromat the second we get off." Neo then looked down at her lap, where Roman Torchwick's pristine bowler hat rested. Before the dream, she had guarded the hat like a rabid animal, clinging to it as the only physical anchor she had left to the man she loved. But now... the suffocating weight in her chest was gone. The horrific, endless loop of his death had been broken. She remembered Roman's final, proud smirk in the dreamscape, and Ruby Rose's extended hand.

Neo didn't need to desperately cling to the past anymore. She could carry Roman's memory without letting it drown her. With a soft, graceful movement, Neo picked the bowler hat up. She carefully brushed a speck of invisible dust from its rim, a phantom gesture mirroring Roman himself, and extended her hands, offering the hat back to Saitama. Saitama paused his frantic scrubbing. He blinked, looking from the hat to Neo's gentle, sincere expression.

"Oh, thanks," Saitama said casually, taking the hat and plopping it back onto his shiny bald head to complete his mob-boss disguise.

"My head was actually getting kind of cold." Neo smiled, her heterochromic eyes sparkling with quiet amusement.

A few rows ahead of the snack break, a much more profound debriefing was taking place. Team RWBY and Team JNPR were gathered around Shion Zaiden and Qrow Branwen in the center aisle. The students looked exhausted, their Auras depleted, but there was a distinct, undeniable lightness to their posture. They had faced the darkest corners of the mind and emerged stronger for it.

"We had that monster completely cornered!" Ruby explained enthusiastically, gesturing wildly with her hands.

"But then the dream started collapsing into this massive, scary black hole, and we couldn't get out!"

"And then," Weiss interjected, still sounding entirely baffled by the memory, "the sky literally ripped open. Like paper."

"Yeah!" Nora shouted, throwing her hands in the air.

"And then Saitama's giant, continent-sized bald head just peeked through the clouds, asked us if we were done napping, and he reached in and pulled the Nightmare out like a weed!" Shion Zaiden stood rigidly in the aisle. The elegant Nightmare Hunter stared blankly at the students, their silver hair catching the morning light.

"He... reached into the collapsing psychic void of a dying mindscape," Shion repeated slowly, their voice trembling with a mixture of awe and existential terror.

"And he just... pulled it out. With his hands."

"Pretty much," Yang grinned, leaning against the seats. Shion closed their eyes, taking a deep, shuddering breath as they tried to reconcile their entire life's magical training with the existence of the bald man eating pastries in the back row. Before Shion could spiral further, Oscar Pine stepped forward. The young farm boy took a deep breath. In the blink of an eye, his posture radically shifted. The nervous, slouching demeanor of the boy vanished, replaced by a spine-straightening, ancient authority.

He clasped his hands behind his back, his eyes glowing with a faint, ephemeral light.

"You have grown shorter, old friend," the voice of Ozpin spoke through the boy, carrying a warm, wistful melody. Shion opened their eyes, immediately recognizing the presence of the ancient wizard. The Hunter bowed deeply, placing a hand over their chest.

"Professor Ozpin. It has been a long time since the incident at Beacon Academy. When word spread of the tower's fall... many believed you had finally perished."

"I am unfortunately difficult to kill," Ozpin replied with a small, weary smile.

"Though the transition has been... turbulent this time." Because Shion was an elite Hunter who specialized in the deep, esoteric magics of the mind and soul, they were one of the very few individuals in Remnant privy to Ozpin's true nature.

"And her?" Shion asked quietly, their tone shifting to a serious, guarded whisper as they referenced Salem.

"Does the shadow still spread?" Ozpin nodded solemnly. He gestured to the satchel slung across Oscar's shoulder, where the Relic of Knowledge was hidden.

"She is moving faster now. We are currently escorting this to Atlas, hoping to secure it within General Ironwood's vault before her forces can claim it." Shion looked at the satchel, a heavy grimness settling over their elegant features.

"The path to Atlas is closed, Ozpin. Ironwood has sealed the borders in his paranoia. You walk a perilous road." Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more. Shion paused, turning their gaze toward the back of the train car where Saitama was currently complaining about the lack of powdered sugar on his bun.

"Though, with him at your side, perhaps the peril is entirely one-sided," Shion added, their voice dropping to a whisper of pure disbelief.

"Ozpin... what is he? I dove into his mind, expecting to find the apocalyptic trauma required to forge a warrior of that magnitude. I found nothing but a man arguing over a grocery coupon. His physical density is so absolute it literally warps psychic reality." Qrow chuckled, a dry, raspy sound, as he took a swig from his flask.

"Yeah, we gave up trying to figure out the baldy for a long time. Now we just point him at the bad guys and cover our ears."

"He is a variable," Ozpin agreed softly, his eyes fixed on Saitama.

"An anomaly that neither I, nor Salem, nor perhaps even the Gods themselves could have ever predicted. But he is a good man. And right now, that is enough." With a final, loud hiss of steam, the Argus Limited lurched to a complete halt. The sliding doors opened, letting in a blast of freezing, salty coastal air. The passengers, finally free from their nightmare-induced slumber, began to eagerly disembark onto the bustling, snow-covered platform of the Argus station.

As the students filed out, Shion Zaiden approached the back of the car. Saitama stood up, brushing crumbs off his suit. Neo stood beside him, her parasol resting elegantly over her shoulder. Shion stopped in front of them and bowed deeply to the bald man.

"I recognized you the moment I arrived, though I could scarcely believe the rumors," Shion said, their voice filled with profound reverence.

"The Hero of Vale. The one who shattered the Wyvern. I owe you my deepest gratitude. Your... unprecedented methods saved many lives today." Saitama blinked, pointing a red-gloved finger at his grease-stained lapel.

"Yeah, sure, hero stuff. Hey, you travel around a lot, right? Do you know where I can find a laundromat in this city? A cheap one? Like, one that doesn't upcharge for 'delicate' fabrics?" Shion froze, utterly bewildered by the mundane question in the face of such epic titles.

"I... I believe there is a commercial district three blocks east of the station, sir."

"Sweet. Thanks," Saitama nodded, instantly making a beeline for the exit, bringing his bag of snacks and the cloth bag containing his iconic hero suit. Shion watched him go, shaking their head, before turning to Neopolitan. The Hunter's expression softened.

"A mind unburdened by the ghosts of the past is the sharpest weapon you can wield," Shion told the mute thief, their tone gentle but firm.

"I saw what you faced in the dark. Keep your eyes on the waking world, child. You have a future here." Neo's eyes widened slightly in surprise. For a moment, the smug facade dropped. She gave Shion a sincere, respectful bow, acknowledging the Hunter's profound help, before turning and following Saitama out the door.

On the snowy platform, Shion Zaiden summoned their specialized hoverbike.

"Take care, everyone," Shion told Ozpin, Qrow, Team RWBY and JNPR.

"May our paths cross again, in a better circumstances."

"Thank you, Shion!" Team RWBY and JNPR gathered around, waving and shouting their heartfelt thanks as the elegant Nightmare Hunter revved the engine. Shion nodded to the students, and then to Ozpin and Qrow, who nodded back. With a flash of silver hair and a trail of blue exhaust, Shion sped off into the snowy horizon, continuing their eternal hunt.

"Alright, listen up," Qrow said, clapping his hands together to get the group's attention. He rubbed his temples, the stress of leadership immediately returning.

"Getting into Atlas isn't going to be a walk in the park. Ironwood has a full military blockade over the city. We need a secure place to stay, and we need a plan."

"You kids are making an awful lot of noise for a group trying to lay low." The sharp, raspy voice cut cleanly through the chatter of the train station. The group turned. Approaching them, her walking cane tapping rhythmically against the frozen concrete, was the tiny, eccentric elderly woman from the train. Maria Calavera stopped in front of them, wrapping her thick woolen shawl tighter against the coastal wind. Her cybernetic, brass-rimmed goggles whirred, the amber lenses auto-focusing directly onto Ruby Rose.

"Lady, we appreciate you surviving the trip, but this is official Huntsman business," Qrow sighed, waving a dismissive hand.

"It's too dangerous for a civilian. Go find a hotel." THWACK. Qrow yelped, hopping on one foot as Maria's wooden cane violently met his shin for the second time that day.

"Civilian? I have forgotten more about surviving Grimm than you will ever learn, you unwashed drunkard!" Maria snapped. Then, she turned entirely away from the grizzled Huntsman, pointing a wrinkled, accusatory finger directly at Ruby's face.

"You have Silver Eyes, girl," Maria stated bluntly. The entire group froze. The bustling noise of the train station seemed to vanish.

"I saw them when you saved me in the cabin," Maria continued, ignoring their shock.

"And judging by how you flailed that oversized farming tool around on the roof, you have absolutely no idea how to use them." Ozpin, still in control of Oscar's body, stepped forward. His glowing eyes locked onto the tiny woman, studying the shape of her jaw, the cadence of her voice, and the intricate design of the cybernetic goggles hiding her face.

"It cannot be... It truly is you," Ozpin breathed, his voice dropping to a whisper of absolute awe.

"Maria Calavera... The Grimm Reaper." Qrow stopped rubbing his shin, his jaw practically hitting the snowy floor.

"Wait. The Grimm Reaper? The legendary Huntress? She's been dead for decades!"

"I am standing right here, you idiot," Maria huffed, crossing her arms.

"Professor Ozpin..." Weiss asked tentatively, looking between the tiny old woman and the Headmaster.

"What is she talking about? What are Silver Eyes?" Ozpin let out a long, heavy sigh, the breath misting in the freezing air. He looked at Ruby, whose silver eyes were wide with desperate curiosity.

"It is a lineage older than the Huntsmen Academies. Older, even, than the Maidens," Ozpin explained, his voice taking on the cadence of a mythic storyteller. The students leaned in, hanging on his every word.

"Long ago, before the world was as it is now, there were warriors blessed by the God of Light himself. They possessed eyes the color of pure, unblemished silver." Blake's feline ears twitched, her eyes wide.

"Blessed by a God?"

"Yes," Ozpin nodded.

"The Grimm are creatures of destruction, born from the God of Darkness. The Silver-Eyed Warriors possessed a power that was the absolute antithesis to the Grimm. It is said that a single look from a Silver-Eyed Warrior could strike a Grimm down, turning the greatest of monsters to stone, or vaporizing them into ash with a blinding, divine light." Yang looked at her little sister, her mouth slightly open in awe. Jaune, Pyrrha, Ren, and Nora exchanged stunned glances.

"But if they were so powerful," Pyrrha asked softly, "why haven't we heard of them?"

"Because they were hunted," Qrow answered grimly, his voice devoid of its usual sarcasm. He looked down at the snow.

"The Grimm Queen feared their power. Over the centuries, she sent her forces to hunt them down, to extinguish the bloodline until they were nothing but a myth." Qrow finally looked up at Ruby, his eyes filled with a painful sorrow.

"Your mother, Summer, was one of the last." Ruby touched her own face, her fingers brushing beneath her silver eyes. The revelation washed over her like a tidal wave. She wasn't just a Huntress. She was the inheritor of a divine legacy, a living weapon against the darkness that had taken her mother. The air was thick with the profound, epic weight of the lore. The destiny of the world seemed to rest on Ruby's shoulders.

"Hey guys." The group blinked, the heavy, dramatic tension instantly evaporating. Saitama was standing a few feet away, staring down at a digital map on his Scroll, looking completely and utterly bored by the legendary exposition. He tapped the screen with a red-gloved finger.

"You're good with tech, right?" Saitama called out, completely oblivious to the ancient secrets they were discussing.

"Does 'Argus Express Cleaners' have good reviews? It says they do a two-hour turnaround, but I don't want them shrinking my suit. If I show up to Atlas looking like I'm wearing a child's trench coat, it defeats the whole 'mob-boss' vibe." Weiss stared at Saitama, her eye twitching violently as she quickly censored herself.

"We are discussing the divine origin of the universe and the ultimate weapon against the Creatures of Grimm, and you are asking about dry-cleaning reviews?!"

"Well, yeah," Saitama replied flatly, pointing to his stained lapel.

"I can't punch a grease stain." Maria Calavera let out a loud, raspy cackle. She hobbled forward, standing directly in front of Ruby.

"The bald buffoon has his priorities, and we have ours," Maria smirked, adjusting her goggles.

"Here is the deal, Silver Eyes. I need to get to Atlas. The finest cybernetic specialists in the world are in that floating city, and my optics are decades out of date. You kids are going to smuggle me past Ironwood's blockade."

"And in return?" Ruby asked, her heart hammering in her chest.

"In return," Maria smiled, her voice filled with absolute confidence, "I will teach you how to awaken your eyes. I will teach you how to master the light." Ruby didn't even hesitate. A massive, determined smile broke across her face.

"Deal!" Ruby cheered. Qrow groaned, putting a hand over his face. Between a reincarnating wizard, a mute criminal, an impossibly strong bald man obsessed with laundry, and now a cranky, elderly legend with cybernetic eyes... His traveling party had officially become the most absurd group in the history of Remnant.